Grams glanced side to side before she whispered, “I think he has money.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I can tell these things. He wears expensive shoes, and don’t forget the fact that he thinks nothing of wasting pennies, while I’m pinching mine.”
Maisy couldn’t keep from smiling, although she understood her grandmother’s hesitation. As a widow on a pension, her grandmother lived month-to-month and was frugal.
“Even if it’s true and Lloyd is loaded, is that such a bad thing?”
“I guess not.” Grams sighed again. “The thing I struggle with…” She hesitated.
“With what?” Maisy urged.
“I’ve only been with your grandfather. What if…” Her face flamed red now.
“Whatever it is, just say it.”
Her grandmother’s voice was so low, Maisy had to strain to hear her. She hesitated once again and looked both ways, as if she feared someone might be listening in on their conversation.
“What if…” She hesitated again. “He wants to have sex?”
Knowing how serious she was, Maisy struggled not to laugh.“Well,” she said, careful to find the right wording. “You should cross that bridge when you come to it. I doubt Lloyd will seduce you over your first dinner.”
Still, she looked uncertain. “You really think I should accept?”
“By all means,” Maisy assured her.
Her grandmother’s shoulders relaxed with relief. “Thank you, Maisy. I knew I could trust you with this. I feel better already.”
After leaving the diner, Maisy helped her grandmother unload the groceries and then headed to the park, where Patrick was at baseball practice. By carpooling with two other families, they seemed to be making the schedule work. This afternoon it was her turn to collect Patrick and the two other boys his age and drive them home.
The boys clambered into the vehicle and immediately began chatting, excited that their coach had started to make position choices.
“Coach chose Oliver for shortstop,” Patrick told her, after they’d dropped Oliver off at his house.
“I’m in the outfield,” Ryan, the boy who sat next to Patrick in the backseat, announced.
“Congratulations. Is that the position you wanted?”
“Yeah. I’m the best.”
Such modesty. “What about you, Patrick? Did the coach tell you where he wanted you?”
“Not yet.” Patrick sounded a little down.
Maisy knew his old baseball mitt that had been handed down from their father to Sean years earlier wasn’t nearly as good as a new one would be. The problem was there wasn’t enough moneyin the family budget to buy Patrick a new one. Perhaps next month.
“Patrick wants to play first base,” Ryan explained. “The coach hasn’t picked anyone yet.”
Maisy knew her brother had been hoping for that position. Nearly every night he talked about his coach and team. He was thrilled to be in Little League. His enthusiasm was enough to ease the sacrifices the family made to ensure he could participate in the sport he loved.
They arrived home close to the dinner hour. As soon as Patrick walked in the door, their mother turned away from the stove and said, “A package arrived in the mail for you today.” She nodded toward the box on the kitchen table.
“For me?” Surprise filled each word.
“It has your name on it,” her mother answered.
“Who’s it from?” Maisy asked.
